


A Blood Red Setting Sun

by lokisvillainy



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Aftermath, Hannigraham - Freeform, Hannigram - Freeform, Injured Will, M/M, Post-Finale, Season 3 Spoilers, Season Finale, injured hannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 21:03:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4760951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokisvillainy/pseuds/lokisvillainy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will and Hannibal's first conversation after their fall, and a first kiss as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Blood Red Setting Sun

**Author's Note:**

> This is the consolation I brought myself to write after the Season Finale. I allowed myself to write down what my imagination came up with (and I'm not gonna lie, the conversation /I wanted/ them to have, haha). Be kind to me, it's been five years since the last time I published something and this is my first Hannigram fanfiction. I'd like to send countless hugs to the Hannibal fandom, you guys are so great that I managed to overcome my neverending writers block! Love you all, thank you for the good times and please enjoy!

They stumbled in the dark corridor, hands clutching to each other’s damp clothes, fabrics that hardly provided them with any protection at that point -- soaked, ripped and bloody as they were.

  
As soon as the wooden door was closed behind their backs, Hannibal got to work with the medical supplies he took from the cabinet, there was no time to waste. Will could hardly tell if what he was seeing was real or not, his head heavy and throat invaded by an overwhelming nausea that only seemed to increase at every step he took. _Where were they?_

He couldn’t bring himself to speak and even if by a miracle he had been able to do it, there wouldn’t be any strength to continue with the conversation.

  
Both of them breathed heavily as their bodies weighted on one another to keep moving forward. They shook, gasping and panting in each other’s arms as if they experienced their last breath with each movement of their wounded chests.

They could shut down at any moment only to wake up the next day, if lucky, or not to wake up at all. Hannibal’s sight became blurry, his blood-stained fingers reaching through the medical supplies – _focus_ , you need to do this quickly. Save William.

  
Will Graham trembled violently by then, but it wasn’t long until he was placed on the bed, wrapped with blankets and given medicine to. He wasn’t surprised that even while experiencing a near death experience Hannibal managed to overcome things as if they were nothing but casual inconveniences. Sometimes in the past Will had caught himself comparing Hannibal to a god: can’t be fought, can’t be defeated, you can’t really see him moving through the shadows if he doesn’t want to be seen.

He _was_ shadows. He was the evil deity that couldn’t be destroyed for he wasn’t human. He was above all things in his sanguinary, bloodthirsty nature – but purely for the pleasure and power. The subjugation of others. You couldn’t get rid of him.

Though his body threatened to succumb to the pain and exhaustion, Will’s mind fought relentlessly to stay aware of his surroundings. Hannibal was in the room with him, his body was sore and burning with tiredness. His mind, however, felt like it was going to explode as it raced and pulsed with mighty strength– he knew what it was.  _His becoming. His wrath_. He remembered it, he still felt it. It ran through him sublime and ravishing. He could feel it now, the change.

Will felt the soft touch of a hand against his forehead and in the next second Hannibal was checking his pupils.

“Will, I need you to stay awake.” Hannibal’s voice came from above as if involved by fog, echoing from a distant place Will couldn’t reach. He could hear the effort in the man’s tone. My, weren’t they wrecked, weren’t they lost and at the same time extremely well located into one another? Yes, it was beautiful.

Will looked up, nodding at him. “You can’t sleep until the medicine starts acting, I need to know if you’re responding to it.”

Pain killers were put into his mouth and antibiotics followed right after, then he had his skin stitched with such tenderness and skill that someone who didn’t know of Hannibal’s physical state at that moment wouldn’t dare to say the AID came from a dying doctor. They _could_ die, but things were all too perfect, too schemed when it came to Hannibal for that to happen. He was a death god, hadn’t he always been? Will felt the urge to laugh scratching his chest, but it didn't come out.

The shapes around him were becoming shadows and melding together, all of it but Hannibal’s face – he saw the devil and he was the devil. Will’s body was shaken violently again. _Thrilling, like the old times_.

“Will? You are under a lot of stress right now… but… I need you to focus.” Hannibal let out with effort. He was so vulnerable, there was so much tenderness and softness in his eyes that Will couldn't help but wonder whether his person suit would return or not. _'Maybe not to me'_ , he thought, _'I'm in too deep'_.   
“I—m afraid… I won’t be of use for you right now, Hannibal. I n-need to sleep.” Will let out with gritting teeth.

The doctor’s face was apprehensive upon seeing the other so weak, even though he knew himself not to be feeling any better. He wouldn’t, however, try to keep the other up anymore, it was clear that Will’s body had reached it’s limit and sooner or later would crumble onto the old bed.

And so it happened: the room was left behind with every other shadow and color in it, there was nothing but darkness in his head and his heart vibrated with the delight that his becoming had brought. Peaceful. It felt like the flame blown into him was never going to go out, they were together as it was supposed to be since the beginning, they were _complete_.  
___________________________________________________________

The fireplace crackled lazily, throwing around the golden light provided by the flames and lighting up the old, sad lines of the wooden furniture. The room was cozy enough, not to Hannibal’s standards, of course, but, given the situation, he’d gladly adjust to whatever they found to be safe. After this night, if they survived it (and they would, he knew), they would have all the time in the mortal world to enjoy everything that could be found in matters of beauty.

They would need rest before carrying on with their plan, they would need to discuss it in detail even though both of them knew what the next step would be and make a good use of the hours that Dolarhyde’s video record would give them. The device was left recording from the moment the man threatened to kill Hannibal to their fall, there wasn’t one single reason to destroy it -- The police would think them to be dead, bodies lost in the dark ocean, time for them to rest and do their best to heal their used, worn out bodies that almost succumbed to the cold, violent waves.

It was how they managed to make their way into a house located as far from the crime scene as possible with what was left of the energy the severe injuries hadn’t burned out yet. The adrenaline was slowly fading away and drifting from their bodies, but they made it out safely, and most importantly,  _together_.

Will’s eyes opened slowly to give him the dull sight of an old ceiling. He remembered Hannibal next to him… where was he? How much time had passed? They had escaped together, fallen off a cliff down the eroding rocks... -- _so clever of Hannibal to point that out_ , Will thought to himself when the flashbacks of the escape began to take place within his tired mind.

He knew that it could be worse, his head hurt but it wasn’t the worst headache he had experienced in his life. It wasn’t luck that the only source of light inside the room was the fireplace, Hannibal knew that he was going to wake up feeling very sensitive and left everything ready for when Will awakened. Will managed to sit up slowly, ignoring the twinges but growling still.

“I see you’re awake.” Hannibal greeted from the other side of the room, moving slowly due to his own injuries. He was shirtless and still holding the surgical scissors that were used in the recent bandage change. “Good evening, Will.”

It was all coming back to him at once and this time the feelings weren’t as subtle as they had begun, they were no longer creeping through the edges of his mind, but ravishing him with the strength of the previous day instead. Will closed his eyes and ran a trembling hand through his curly hair.

“How are you feeling?”  
“Great.”

It wasn’t a lie. The state of his body had nothing to do with his spiritual state, and when it came to his spirit, Will had never felt more at peace with himself than he did now.

The sound of steps followed before Will could voice any other thought, too many of them were still fighting inside his head when Hannibal seated himself beside him and handed him a glass of water.

“Drink” a pill was placed on the palm of Will’s hand – _just like the night before_ , he remembered. Will obliged without questioning.  
“Where are we?”  
“We’re in a safe place, one of the houses I own.” his fingers brushed the side of Will’s face and were quickly withdrawed when he hissed in pain. He had been stabbed there.

“You’re still sensitive, I see.”  
“Of course I’m sensitive, I got stabbed in the face.”  
Hannibal smiled. “Yes, you were, but you are alive nonetheless.”

A sigh escaped Will’s lips, Hannibal’s hand rose again and this time his touch was even softer, though he didn’t dare touching the wound again. Will looked into Hannibal's eyes and witnessed his own thoughts slowing down so that he could enjoy the feeling of that touch, it had been a long time since kindness had reached out to him in such a manner. Through Hannibal's eyes Will could see everything. There they were, the murder husbands, reunited.

“It was your intention to free me since the beginning, to run away with me.”  
To Will, it sounded like _‘Water is wet’_ or _‘The sky is blue’_. An obvious statement that was as true and solid as the bedroom they occupied, as the hand that cupped his face with a fondness that could only accompany the hand of a killer.  
“Yes.”

Silence reigned for a few moments, the words sinking in.

“I’m proud of you.” Hannibal stroked his hair now, Will did his best to stay focused on his speech.  
“How long has it been? They should know by now.”  
“They know we escaped together, they have Francis’ recording in their possession.” The doctor watched him attentively and with adoration. Will belonged to him now, there wasn’t a thing that the police could do about it.  
“They also think we are dead, this gives us time… this is why you brought us here.” he said as if the verbalization was necessary to put his thoughts in place, they had had such conversation while slaying the dragon together, however, words weren’t uttered there. They said it through the eyes only.

Hannibal nodded.

“The dead get to rest, Will… this is what you will be doing for a while.”  
Will breathed heavily when he felt his shoulder ache, only then noticing the bandage around Hannibal’s waist. “How is your recovery…?”  
“I’ve been better, but there will be no problem, since the bullet was removed. It’s treated, making possible that I take better care of you.”

The way his mind brought back the flashes of the previous night was involuntary. He had given himself completely to Hannibal before the fall, crumbled in his arms in need for support after such a tiring becoming. It weirded him out that all of this – the bed, the bedroom, Hannibal sitting next to him and talking about taking care of his injuries, even the comforting silence that dwelled between them occasionally in such a subtle manner. _Everything_. –, felt natural to him. It felt like all things were where they should be, like they belonged. They did belong, and _they_ belonged with one another.

Will looked into his eyes, sighing softly. Hannibal leaned closer and pressed a kiss to the side of his head. “It’s alright, you’re exactly where you're supposed to be.” he muttered, nuzzling into Will’s messy hair.  
“I know.”  
“Then you know as well what the next step is going to be.”  
“Yes, I do.”

 _‘I'd pack my bags _if I were you_ , _Bedelia._  Meat is back on the menu’._ Will heard himself uttering the words to Bedelia. He knew what was to be done after they left their new hiding place.

“She knows we’re together.” Will closed his eyes in the soothing sensation that at that point had taken over him completely. “She might not believe the possibility of our deaths.”

“There are many possibilities, Will… none of them should be your concern for now, not until you are fully recovered. Bedelia is a smart woman, but she is no match for the both of us, is she now?” Hannibal’s voice was covered with amused delight, one could say that he sounded thrilled by the evil in the sentence.

“I guess we’ll find out.”   
“We will. Now eat the meal I prepared you.” while saying that, Hannibal leaned away and looked at the silver tray placed on the nightstand next to Will’s side of the bed. He nodded, but made no effort to reach for the tray, something that prompted Hannibal to reach for it himself and place it on the bed.  
“Eat.”  
“My mouth is sore.”

Hannibal smiled, took the glass and pressed it to Will’s lips so that he would sip the orange juice.

“What are you smiling about?” Will quirked a brow at him once he had swallowed the juice.  
“Jack. He believed you when you said that it was going to be a fake escape.”  
“Oh, that.” For a second, his body tensed up. If only Jack trusted him like that in the past… things would have been so different.  
“Naïve, or incredibly kind.” the glass was pressed to Will’s lips once more and he drank again.  
“Jack doesn’t do _kindness_ , Hannibal.”  
“And neither do we when there is no gain.”

 _We._ The usage of the word kept repeating itself, spilling out of Hannibal’s lips like venom and sounding like music to his troubled ears, to the ears of both of them. Will remained silent for a long time in which he finished the orange juice. His head felt lighter, but it ached as much as his shoulder and cheek did, he was still too weak.

Hannibal didn’t look away from him for one second, he could be thinking about the things that had happened, maybe about what would follow next, but Will’s guess was that he wasn’t. Hannibal was admiring his face, his gaze deeply focused on the injuries and small cuts.

It was difficult not to feel flustered when they were sharing this kind of intimacy. It was like Hannibal could read his mind, -- and he could, in a certain way -- by the way he grinned when Will could no longer hold his gaze. What followed wasn’t what he expected, there was no snarky comment, no cocky -- but subtle -- comeback. There was only Hannibal cupping his face gently once more and the brushing of soft lips against his own –

Will couldn’t breathe, hesitant as he was. His lips parted as if it was a natural reaction and he soon found himself betrayed by his own body, that gave him no time to think about where things were heading to.

Too much time spent on his endless thinking, so much controlled reactions when all he ever needed was to surrender entirely, to give in. Surrender had happened the night before, passion had taken over while in Hannibal’s arms. Love. So why fight it? He wasn't going to anymore.

 

 _‘_ _Is Hannibal… in love with me?’_

 

Bonded to Hannibal’s mind, his psyche, his point of view. Hannibal was the one to open the gates of life and true existence to him and to help him grow, expand himself in a way that wouldn’t have happened if he weren’t there. Such a long road until things had taken that turn, so much torture and pain until he were finally able to get his release from the strings that Will kept himself tied with.

 _'_ _Must not cross the lines, must keep the control of myself, ease my mind, slow down. Do not become, do not partake. Keep my sanity. Make it stop, get off my head.’_

Had those been his own thoughts? Was Will himself when it began to happen? Was he fighting the killers inside his head or was he stopping himself from breaking free from the restraints that held his true self back?  
Hannibal had been the one standing before him, asking _‘Why?’_.

Why should he fight it, when life could be so beautiful and meaningful? Maybe there was no god, maybe there was and _If_ there was, he could be laughing at them. Fear nothing, for he didn’t fear god at all.  
Pure beauty waited on the other side and it ran through him to wake him up from the continuous dullness Will found himself living in. He only lived through the empathy, was it not? The moments when it all made sense, when he was putting together the pieces of someone elses life.

There was nobody else that could know him ever so deeply the way Hannibal did, to tease his being, set fire to every system within his body, to tear him apart, break him only to put him back together again.

_‘Could he daily feel a stab of hunger for you and find nourishment at the very side of you? Yes. But do you ache for him?’_

_‘Yes.’_ would have been the appropriate answer.

 _Will ached for him._ There was no doubt when he found himself kissing back and his good arm coming to wrap itself around Hannibal's neck, fingers tangled into the thin hair. Will needed this. He ached, he ached _badly_.

  
Hannibal welcomed him into his arms with pure joy upon seeing that his affections were being corresponded with enthusiasm; he was so proud of his boy, Will had blossomed into the most beautiful thing he had ever seen and nobody would take it away from him.

They found comfort not only in the intimacy of each other’s arms but in the intimacy of the large, dim room as well. Reunited. Lips crashing together, fingers grasping hard into each other’s hair as if their sore bodies did not object to the rough handling, at that moment, they knew no pain and no misery, there was only the pleasure of belonging between their warm breaths. The merging of their very beings.

  
The fire still dwelt within him, but Hannibal didn’t protest when Will broke the kiss to look at him. They looked at each other for a long time, words weren’t needed by then. Comprehensive eyes, _they knew_.

“Was it too much?” Hannibal’s gentle voice ended the pause.  
“Is there too much of anything when it comes to us?” it was a genuine question, at the same time that it required no answer. It could be purely rhetorical.

Hannibal looked at Wills lips, too happy about their kiss to say anything. He stroked Will's hair, taking his time like only a lover would.

“You’ve been inside my head for a long time, Hannibal. There is no greater intimacy, don’t you think?”  
“I agree.”  
“Bedelia told me you were in love with me.”  
“What else did she tell you?”  
“…I was the one to ask.” he continued, ignoring the question.  
“Well then… if you want to hear it directly from me, all you have to do is ask.”

Will looked up at him and it felt like the sun of his new life was beginning to burn up his skin. Hannibal was so close, his voice still as delicate as the hand that covered his own.

“I know the answer.”

Hannibal smiled.

“Ask me, Will.”  
“Are you in love with me?”  
“To use your own convenient words, yes, I’m in love with you.”

He was pulled closer to Hannibal and his head was kindly placed against his chest. Will heard the beating of his heart as the embrace became tighter. So relaxing, so intimate that he could almost swear that if they had souls, they were touching as much as their bodies were.

Though Will couldn’t see his face, he knew Hannibal was smiling.

"I love you too."

_Yes, and he ached for him._


End file.
